


Bloodhyr; First Timer

by TheRoarOfAtlas



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Attempted Drugging, Blood Drinking, Blood and Violence, Character Death, F/M, Feeding App For Vampires, Human/Vampire Relationship, Inexperienced Reader, JUST LOOK AT THIS, Minor Character Death, Pasta, Pretty sure the vampire bandwagon is long gone, Self Confidence Issues, The INDULGENCE, Threats of Violence, Vampires, Virgin Reader, but for anyone who enjoys it I give you this, wrestlers without the wrestling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-14
Updated: 2018-09-14
Packaged: 2019-07-12 01:25:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15984626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRoarOfAtlas/pseuds/TheRoarOfAtlas
Summary: Thirsty Crew, I have found yet another bandwagon to assault with my nonsense! I give you this finely-crafted nightmare to peruse. It’s long, it’s got Atlas-tronomical levels of touchy-feely goodness, and delightful, sharp-toothed shenanigans![x-posted to Tumblr]Enjoy!





	Bloodhyr; First Timer

**Author's Note:**

> [!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains blood (the drinking of it and blood in general), attempted drugging, threats of violence, actual violence and one instance of death. Stay safe everyone!]

Your work day had been long and exhausting. When you finally got home, you were barely through the door before your phone chimed an alert from the app.

 

- _Remember to eat before your appointment!_

 

You allowed yourself five glorious minutes of laying face-first on the couch, kicking off your sensible flats in the process. Your phone chimed with the reminder, urging you upright once more. You went into your bedroom to change out of your work clothes, watching the sunset paint the sky. Clouds gathered while the brilliance faded, heralding rainy weather for the evening.

 

A text from within the app popped up as you were eating your pre-feed protein bar.

 

_-Tonight is still okay, right? Can reschedule if needed_.

 

You quickly typed a reply in the affirmative and sent it on its way. These visits were the highlight of your week (not that you would ever admit that), and you wanted to make sure everything went smoothly. People could be… _skittish_.

 

This particular client had been yours for almost a year now, and you were fairly used to the quirks of personality and nature associated with someone like him.

 

…

 

“May I come in?”

 

Words laced with weight, like this was the most important request he had ever made. Brown eyes that shone unnaturally in the flickering light of the apartment corridor, black hair swept back into a bun so tight it made your own scalp ache with phantom pain. The usual button-down shirt stretched across his chest, the usual pair of dark-washed jeans hugged his thighs and calves. Not a single hair was out of place in his freshly-trimmed goatee. The sharp lines of his elaborate tribal tattoo peeked out from the edge of his crisp shirt sleeve, as if the shirt had been purposely tailored to fall a tad short of where it should. Roman was just as devastatingly handsome as the first time you had seen him.

 

“Please, you are welcome here.” You replied, resisting the urge to bow comically as always. He stepped over the threshold, took your hand and pressed his lips to the inside of your wrist in his typical greeting.

 

“How has your week been? I know during our last appointment you said you had a date on Thursday that you were looking forward to.” He asked cordially. You didn’t miss the way his eyes strayed to your neck and cleavage, like he was looking for marks or some sort of indication of your supposed enjoyment of said date.

 

You shook your head, your only answer a sad little smile.

 

“What happened?” His tone was sharper than you had expected. “That is…I mean, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I understand our relationship is a professional one at best.” He awkwardly amended.

 

“Nerves, I guess.” You shrugged. “He um, he tried to kiss me at the end of the night and…I wasn’t exactly having a good time, so I told him no. I think I hurt his feelings.”

 

“You should have hurt more than that.” Roman grumbled. “Men are intolerable.”

 

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” You settled down on your couch, patting the cushion beside you. “C’mon, you’re not here to talk about my nonsense.”

 

“I don't understand the obsession with forcing things.” Roman murmured after he sank onto the couch. “It's habit for me to ask, of course, but you'd think that they would learn after so many years.” You jerked impatiently at the neck line of your shirt, more than done with the direction that the conversation had taken. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you.” He apologized immediately.

 

“It's okay.” Your tone was sharp, dismissive.

 

“I know that it isn't.” Roman extended a hand, waiting patiently for your own. “I know that it's difficult and unfair. The pressure put on you, through relationships and otherwise, is inexcusable.”

 

“'Normal'. The word you're looking for is 'normal'.”

 

Roman shook his head, looking perturbed. “ _I'm_ the bloodsucker here. No one else should be given the opportunity to sap your energy and time while giving you nothing but more worries in exchange.”

 

“Don't call yourself that.” You scolded. “You're helping me pay rent, the least I can do is be a good host.”

 

Roman chuckled. “So pragmatic.”

 

“It's kept me fed. Keeping _you_ fed too, last time I checked.”

 

“Alright, point taken.” Roman passed his hand over your eyes and your whole body relaxed into the couch. “That's it. You know you're safe here.” He breathed. He preferred to only lightly trance you, stating that it was easier than feeding off of someone who was fully unconscious. “Head to the side, good girl.” His fingers gently kept your head at an angle, one large hand supporting your neck.

 

You would liken the sensation to dozing, drifting between dream and reality with little concern for either. There was no pain when Roman fed. He would run his tongue over the area, just a quick pressure and then the soft, steady noises for thirty to forty leisurely minutes. He was kind enough to apply circular Band-Aids to the wounds he made once he was finished, and on more than one occasion he had carried you to your bed and tucked you in with a glass of orange juice.

 

You fancied that he was responsible for the dreams you had after he fed. Your body wrapped in black silk, his deep voice whispering unintelligibly in the back of your mind and soothing you down, down into the darkness of deep sleep.

 

_Sleep a little longer with me_...

 

…

 

The app had started it all, really. A new option for vampires in the modern age, so used to forced feeds or shady dealings with disreputable blood banks. Humanity's capacity for enterprise-tainted aid knew no bounds. Bearing the simple (if appropriate) moniker of _Bloodhyr_ , developed by a small, well-educated team, it was a relatively straightforward application in the vein of Tinder or Uber.

 

Of course, there was the usual hysteria that followed any new app that tried to make things easier. Concerned parents and representatives of their communities, up in arms about the fact that _bloodsuckers_ could get their meals in peace and relative safety. “ _More than meals_ ,” was the rallying cry of such ruffled individuals.

 

For discerning humans though, opportunity abounded. As long as you were over the age of twenty-one and willing to submit to a perfunctory medical exam (strictly for your own safety of course, as vampires could neither transmit nor catch any disease), there was money to be made. Categories ranged from quick feeds to full-blown social events, and everything in between for the right price.

 

Roman was from an ancient bloodline, draped in a rich history of influence and power which was painfully evident in the full name he had rattled off dismissively at your first meeting. “ _Don Cavaliere Romano Alessandro Raniero Vittore Ferdinando Leon di Reigns, l'Italia a titolo di Samoa. Make sure you remember, there's going to be a quiz later._ ” His slow, teasing smile afterwards had eased your nerves immensely. “ _You can call me Roman_.”

 

His family had no real need of the app, but Roman had sought it out with the supposed reason of fighting his own boredom. “ _It's like a tray of hors d'oeuvres. Except you're blindfolded and you're relatively certain that the chef is a sadist. Miles more interesting than opening the walk-in and deciding between faceless, legitimately purchased donations from the sixties_ _ **or**_ _faceless, legitimately purchased donations from yesterday_.” He had rolled his eyes. “ _I'm spoiled_.”

 

His conditions were simple and in line with the app's required code of conduct: eat regularly before a scheduled feeding time so that you didn’t pass out, give at least three hours of advance notice for all cancellations or changes, and a month's notice if you decided to switch to a different client. Roman could obviously afford someone of a much higher social status, so you were a _little_ surprised when he became a returning customer. But with his generous patronage and a full-time job, you were able to eke out a comfortable (if exhausted) existence.

 

It was flattering that he seemed to relish your company, sometimes telling _hours_ worth of stories from his long life before sheepishly recalling that he was in your apartment for a reason. As strange as your situation was, you never felt like a captive audience when he regaled you with his tales instead of immediately feeding off of you and being on his way.

 

“ _You’re an excellent listener, you know._ ”

 

In return for your rapt attention he would give you a little bit of insight into the vampiric mind. How to fight being entranced, how to make yourself less like prey.

 

“ _Snap your fingers, move around. Anything to break the vampire’s concentration. The less they focus, the better off you are. They'll want to subdue you quickly, so time is extremely important._ ” Roman had taken your hand in his own after a moment of waiting for your permission. “ _ **Never**_ _agree to anything. Deny deny deny. Once they have your allowance, the crafty ones can bend your will,_ _ **break**_ _your will_.” He had shaken his head. “ _I don’t want you to be hurt by someone like me, not after you’ve been so polite_.”

 

Your aforementioned politeness had at first been a product of fear and nerves, but then slowly mellowed out into a genuine friendliness and deference. Roman knew far more about the world than you, knew the ins and outs of both the veneer and the life that laid beneath it.

 

“ _The sign of the cross and crucifixes in general will only go so far. Some like me are immune, blessed with the benefits of mixed heritage and overexposure to the gilded glitter of Catholicism. It might give me a headache, if you hit me with it_.” He had given you that teasing grin, “ _ **Requiescat in pace**_ _all you want. My peaceful rest is_ _ **eons**_ _from now, either natural or otherwise. Especially since_ _nobody really hunts us anymore. Maybe a few ambitious individuals. I don’t worry much, since my family is so powerful._ ” His brow had furrowed. “ _I worry about_ _ **you**_ _. I teach and I wonder if I’m doing enough, whether I’m helping you be safe or just making you more of a target_.”

 

Roman (supposedly like most vampires) was occasionally taken by dark bouts of melancholy. You could always tell if it was one of those nights because he would be withdrawn and terse at the door, and unusually clingy once he was invited in. You wondered what it was that gave vampires these depressive episodes, but you always worried that it might be rude to ask and imply that you generalized.

 

“An eternity is…a very long time to be alone.” Roman murmured one night. He had been resting with his head on your chest instead of talking or feeding, listening to your heartbeat while you just watched some TV and stroked his hair. You were paid either way, it didn't matter to you, and it _was_ nice to simply relax with a large masculine body pressed to your own. Especially since you knew there was absolutely no chance he wanted anything from you aside from your blood. “I’m not alone, not really, I have my family after all. But there are…it’s difficult to form outside relationships with any sort of impact. You know they’ll be gone soon, practically in a blink for someone like me.”

 

He fell silent for another long stretch. The television played on in the background.

 

“When I was much, _much_ younger, when vampires were still seen as myths, I met a young contessa. I can’t even remember her face now, it's...it's been too long. Sometimes I wonder if I imagined her, but I have these dreams…” Roman paused, then continued, “She said she loved me. Loved my danger, my, er, exotic... _plumage_.”

 

“Delicate way of saying you were more tan and tattooed than the average layman?” You chuckled, drumming your fingers on the top of his shoulder.

 

“I wouldn’t consider _that_ delicate.”

 

“What happened to her?” You asked softly when he was quiet again.

 

“My danger.” He replied bleakly, an odd accent bleeding into his speech. You noticed him occasionally lapsing into it when he spoke about the past at length, his words and cadence switching to less contemporary tones. “Another man who also fell for her charms grew jealous of her fickle attentions to me. At the time, I thought him amusing, not anything close to a threat. I was _very_ young, stupid and power-drunk with the assumption that she only had eyes for me.” Roman exhaled heavily. “Her servants found her dead, blood everywhere with two holes punched in her neck _._ ”

 

“He was a vampire too?”

 

“Yes. I hunted him for months. Killed him. For a woman that I barely knew, a woman renowned for her manipulation and flighty nature. But she didn’t deserve _that_. And now…now I don’t even remember what she looked like. What she sounded like.” Roman sounded strangely tired. “That man’s jealousy might have been his motivation, but in the end it was me holding the smoking gun. Doesn't paint me in a very chivalrous light.”

 

“Did...did you love her?” You queried hesitantly, not sure if the inquiry was overreaching the boundaries he had set between the two of you.

 

“No.” The word was sharp. “I didn’t know what love was. It was vanity that urged me on. That other vampire had snuck in and been so wasteful in his rage. I…I viewed her as property, property that he had taken. And I hated being slighted more than anything in the world. It was strange, like a madness sometimes. My insides _burned_ with my fury at the miserable creature that dared to steal my sustenance from me. But...” Roman's fingers kneaded at your shirt, like a kitten. You resumed petting his hair and he swallowed hard. “When I killed him, there was no joy in it. I tore his throat out and left him as a pile of dust. It wasn’t just. I would barely call it revenge. I didn’t gain anything from it.”

 

He sat up suddenly enough to make you jump. His hand wrapped around your throat and you obediently tilted your head to the side, waiting for the pressure. But it never came. Roman just stayed stock-still, his thumb resting on your pulse. His blank stare at the wall over your head had you a little worried. “Roman?”

 

“What?” He replied curtly, not meeting your eyes.

 

“It's...it's okay if you were sad about her, you know.” You said hurriedly, afraid you would lose your nerve. “You're allowed.”

 

“I'm _not_. _Sad_.”

 

“I don't mean _now_ , doofus. I mean then. It's okay if you wanted to get that guy because he took her from you. Not just...I mean, not only her blood, but _her_. The whole person.”

 

“She was just another person. I didn't mourn her passing.”

 

“Maybe you should have?”

 

“If I was going to mourn every single person time has taken from me, I would be wearing black for the next five hundred years.”

 

“Okay you're not taking this seriously so just forget it, I guess.” You muttered, folding your arms. “Silly me. I'm just dinner, not your therapist.”

 

“Delusions of grandeur from the dinner plate.” Roman teased, getting a reluctant smile out of you. “There you are. Don't worry about me, alright? I've made peace with every demon I've got. Otherwise I would have gone insane ages ago.”

 

_Don't worry about me_.

 

…

 

Randy Orton worked the night security shift at your offices, so most of the times you saw him he was bleary-eyed and yawning. There was a certain rough charm to him that was undeniable, and often when you were working late on a project he would come to lean against the side of your cubicle. He wasn't much for talking; you wouldn't even know he was there until you turned around. He always laughed when you jumped, like a mischievous little kid waiting to startle his parents.

 

It was admittedly odd attention that he gave you, but since he was security you didn't feel as concerned about it as you would have if it was one of your daytime coworkers. It was his job to keep you safe, after all! It was logical that he should stay close if you were the only person in the office at night.

 

“You sure do work late often.” He commented one evening, playing his flashlight over the walls of the office. You nodded absently, only half-hearing him. “No one for you to hurry back to at home? Some lucky guy?”

 

“No. No time for guys or girls.” You mumbled, pasting more sources into the next document. “Work to do.”

 

“I can see that. You go on vacation tomorrow, right? That month-long excursion you've been talkin' about for ages?” He asked. A hand touched you beneath your chin and you obediently raised your head a fraction, still keeping your attention on the computer screen. “Ah ah, eyes up.” Randy ordered quietly. You felt strange for a second, like you were powerless to resist. But then Randy smiled at you and it was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. “Princess, I'd like it a lot if you'd come on a date with me when you get back from your vacation. Just some drinks, what do you say?”

 

Your tongue didn’t want to cooperate for a second. “Oh...um, are you sure? I mean I'm just...well, I'm nothing special.” You hemmed and hawed, flustered.

 

“That's where you're wrong, princess. You're _real_ special.”

 

…

 

Your phone chimed and you groaned, rolling over in bed to grab it and open the Bloodhyr app.

 

- _Have a good time on your vacation! Enjoy the sun. Appointment for afterwards still alright?_

 

- _Yeah, I'll just need to see when my friend wants to go on a date. Should be fine though._

 

- _Great. You take care of YOU now, alright? Be safe._

 

You didn't hear anything else from Roman for the duration of your vacation, and you tried to tell yourself that it was a good thing. If Randy wanted anything _serious_ , it might get a little awkward explaining the bloodsucking patron that kept the proverbial lights on. Roman must have found another person on the app who was able to entertain him. It couldn't be _that_ difficult, could it?

 

You spent your time wisely, soaking up every ounce of phenomenal weather with single-minded intent. You took no calls if they were work-related, answered no emails and just turned your brain off for a while. It was sheer bliss. The time you were able to dedicate to taking care of yourself didn't go unnoticed, as Facebook friends commented on your new photos that you seemed happier than you had been in years. Randy's simple ' _looking good!_ ' had you smiling stupidly for the rest of the day.

 

- _Can't wait to see you when you get back_

 

The text popped up at an ungodly time in the morning. You thought it was Roman for a minute before you realized it came from outside the Bloodhyr app.

 

- _Ha! I bet you say that to all the girls_.

 

- _Nah. Pretty much just you. Really looking forward to our date_

 

You hid your face in your blankets, muffling your girly squeal.

 

- _I am too_.

 

- _It's probably way past your bedtime. See you soon_

 

...

 

Randy ended up bringing you to a bar you had never been to for your date. He looked so strange out of his work uniform, more human. He laughed loudly when you told him as much, his hand falling to the small of your back to urge you in through the door.

 

He was incredibly attentive, nodding at every little thing that you said. His hand crept to your thigh and stayed there, and you didn't even mind. You felt strangely flush, alive and _happy_ , genuinely happy. _Was this what it could be like?_ You wondered. You had been on so many lackluster dates, this one seemed too good to be true.

 

When a drink slid across the bar to you, you eagerly accepted it. Randy tipped his own glass to you with a smile. “Drink up, princess.” So you did. An odd, salty aftertaste hit you once you had taken your first sip, but you barely noticed under the weight of Orton's intense stare.

 

He licked his lips and you echoed the motion, uncertain if there was something foamy on your mouth from the drink.

 

“You're so beautiful.” He murmured, pushing your hair back from your face. You giggled, taking another sip of the drink and shrugging, embarrassed. “Seriously, I've _never_ seen anyone prettier than you. And you always smell fantastic.” Randy rubbed the back of his neck, looking a little awkward. “Sorry, weird thing to say. Heh.”

 

“It's...” The rest of your assurance died on your tongue when you looked up. You could have sworn his eyes had darkened, from their usual blue to almost black in the dim light of the bar. You quickly jerked your attention back down to your glass, resting it on your right thigh. Your light-colored leggings were clearly visible through the bottom of the glass, and they silhouetted something that made your chest tighten in fear.

 

_What did he put in my drink?_

 

Trying not to draw attention to yourself, you slid your fingers beneath your glass to make sure it wasn't some errant crumbs from your dinner on your leggings. It _was_ something in your drink, a small object shaped like a pill. Panic seized your body and you chanced another look up at Orton just as the bartender called his name. Randy turned his head, then patted your knee apologetically. “Sorry, I gotta' go talk to him. Don't get lonely now.” He said with a wink, sliding off the barstool and straightening his jacket before sauntering off.

 

You bit your lip, placing your drink back on the counter. You had never spoken with Roman regarding anything like this, but you were thoroughly rattled and you would feel better if your scary vampire associate at least knew that something might happen to you. Guilt flooded you when you opened Bloodhyr and were reminded of the fact that your last conversation had been over a month ago.

 

- _Roman, are you up?_ _I know it’s early_.

 

It was barely seven o'clock and most nights he didn't rise until eight thirty or nine. The reply was slow to come and you kept glancing up, silently thanking the bartender for being so chatty.

 

- _I’m awake. What do you need? Reschedule?_

 

- _I’m sorry to bother you. I’m out with my coworker and I don’t feel safe. Can I text you the address of the place so at least someone knows where I am?_

 

His reply arrived three seconds later.

 

- _Give address_

 

You pasted in the information from your GPS, hating how much your fingers were shaking. The screen blurred when you hit send, and you hurried to compose a second message before you lost your motivation.

 

- _I think he_ _put something in my drink_.

 

- _Tell me you didn’t drink it_

 

- _I didn't see it before I drank some_ _. Not much_.

 

- _Hide in the bathroom. I’m coming_

 

- _There’s only one restroom. Unisex._

 

- _Hide there anyway and stall as long as possible. I’m coming_

 

“Hey hey, why the frown? I figured the drink would cheer you up!” Randy said brightly, his sudden reappearance startling you. You quickly jammed your phone into your pocket. “After tomorrow it's back to work, you said so yourself. Take this opportunity to relax, unwind with me.”

 

_With me. With me. With me._ His eyes bored into your own and you couldn’t look away. A trance, Roman had warned you, but that could only mean…

 

The counter tilted uneasily beneath your arm when you shook your head and snapped your fingers, breaking eye contact. You tried to hide how shaken you were, but it was so _difficult_ with him inches away!

 

_Vampire_.

 

Randy’s voice deepened. “Who were you texting, anyway?”

 

You stood and immediately fell forward, almost into Randy’s arms. “S-Sorry, I don’t feel…I think I’ve had too much.” You tried to downplay your stumble, brushing off your leggings and giving Randy a weak smile. “Will you take me home? I’m just going to go to the restroom first.”

 

“Nah, I don’t think so.” Randy’s grip was like steel bands around your upper arm, making you wince in pain. “I think you’re coming with me, princess.”

 

“Wait, I need to--the bathroom, Randy, please-”

 

Randy ignored your protests, quickly pulling you along with him. The doorway loomed out of the smoky atmosphere that you had deemed cozy at the beginning of the night and you tried to drag your feet, tried to struggle, but your body refused to cooperate beyond the bare minimum.

 

The alley behind the bar was in shadow, the building beside it blocking most of the light from the street. A shudder of fear ran through you as Randy ushered you into the dark space and you went to open your mouth to scream.

 

Orton clapped a hand across your mouth, hushing you softly. “Ah ah, can’t have anyone hearing you. Who knows what might happen?” He whispered. Tears began running down your cheeks and he tsked, seeming disappointed. “Figured it would soften you up, but I guess not. Looks like I’m gonna’ have to do you the old-fashioned way.”

 

He fixed you with that stare again and what little fight you had started to peter out. Desperately, you bit his palm and he swore, forcing his knee in between your legs and pinning your body against the brick wall.

 

“That was a mistake, princess. I was gonna’ be nice to you.” He hissed, raising your hand to his mouth in an odd echo of how Roman would greet you. Pain shot like a hot lance up your arm when he suddenly bit down on the back of your hand, razor sharp…teeth, _fangs_ punching through your skin.

 

Agony gripped your body and your throat closed, the alley graying out in front of you and the barest whimper escaping your lips. Blood started to trickle off the tips of your fingers. _Roman wouldn't have wasted a drop._ You clung to the thought, trying to keep from passing out. It wasn't so much the pain but the blinding fear, panic amplifying the sensation tenfold.

 

Randy chuckled, seeming satisfied as he wiped his mouth and smeared your blood on the back of his hand. “Don't bite if you can't handle the fangs, princess.”

 

“The same goes for _you_.” Came the snarl from the shadowed fire escape above the two of you. Randy whirled at the voice, catching the full weight of Reigns' body when he dropped. Roman wasn’t steady on his feet after he rolled upright, even to your wavering eyesight.

 

Randy seemed to notice as well, recovering from the takedown with record speed and lunging at Reigns. “I _knew_ I smelled you on her, fuck _you_ , greedy bastard!” Orton spat, his fist making brutal contact with Roman’s mouth. “Let someone else have somethin’ for a change, Reigns, and walk away from this fight!”

 

“She's not _property!_ ” Roman raged back, blood spattering from his cut lip. You wondered for a split second if he was talking about you or the woman from so long ago.

 

“Maybe not to you, but this little heifer is gonna’ provide me with a _lifetime_ of virgin blood.” Orton sneered. You felt like your veins were full of ice. Was that his plan? To keep you as his personal blood supply, with no limitations or legal bindings? _Virgin blood. Plasma_ _captive_. The news stories rattled on in the back of your head, a terrible loop of unwanted information.

 

You wanted to vomit.

 

Roman bared his teeth and Orton cackled incredulously. “You're _weak_ , look at you! Barely standin', slobbering at me like an _animal!_ Not exactly a proud specimen, Reigns! Guess that family name is just that, a _name_.”

 

“Call me an animal all you want, Orton.” Roman's smile was _terrible_ , white teeth gleaming through the curtain of hair. “I'll humor you by tearing your throat out.”

 

“Big words from someone like _you_ , pampered spoiled...hell, you couldn't even keep her safe! I've gotten a taste.” Randy sang, gleeful.

 

“Did you savor it?” Roman straightened up. “Roll it around in your mouth, let it rest on your tongue, taste the different notes like a fine wine? Or was it just _bitter_ , tear-salt tang and copper like everything else because all you know how to do is abuse and take and _ruin_ the best things in your life. You remind me of someone I knew once.”

 

Randy's face whitened rapidly. “You shut the fuck up.”

 

“You've put your hands on her with the intention of injury. I'm not going to let you do it again.”

 

Orton drew his fist clean back to his ear for a swing that would take Roman's head off and Roman just _stood_ there, unmoving. You closed your eyes, a few more tears making their way down your cheeks.

 

An impact rang in your ears and then there was this _awful_ noise, a gurgling rasp followed by the thick rumble of a snarl. You could only guess what had happened and your shoulders shook with the effort of trying to keep your sobs silent. You didn't dare to open your eyes, the slick feeling of blood on the back of your hand making your stomach churn.

 

“It's alright.” It was Roman's voice, to your surprise. “It's alright. He's gone.”

 

You flinched against the wall when you opened your eyes and he was inches from your face. Roman straightened up slowly, all coiled preparedness and ragged edge. His hair was loose, frizzy from exertion and sweat and hiding his face from you. A trail of blood meandered down his neck to blot the collar of his half-buttoned shirt.

 

The tense set of his shoulders eased a little. “I dusted him.” You noticed what looked like ash stuck to the front of his damp shirt. “I…I’m sorry you have to see me like this. Are you alright?”

 

“I d-don’t really know.” You stammered, feeling like your tongue was too heavy in your mouth. “H-He, um, he bit me on my hand. I don’t want to look at it. Too scared.”

 

“May I?” Always asking, always waiting, he held out a hand. Cringing, you nodded and extended your arm. Instead of taking your hand Roman pulled you into his arms and held you tightly. “I could smell you. And the blood…I was terrified.” He admitted after a long moment. “His trance is still sapping you. He must have tried to drug you because his hypnosis is weaker. Needed all the help he could get.” He cupped your neck and pressed his lips to the top of your head, whispering something into your hair.

 

Your dizziness subsided, Roman’s large body slowly coming back into sharp focus. “ _Oh_.” You sighed, feeling like you could think again. “Thank you.”

 

“Do you need to go to a hospital?” He asked, one hand suddenly moving over your shoulder to plant on the wall as his legs buckled underneath him.

 

“Roman!”

 

He waved off your concern, breathing hard. “It’s alright. Just weak from hunger.” He said it so nonchalantly, as though it was normal. Maybe for someone like him, it was.

 

“I've never seen you this bad, when was the last time-” Roman’s head jerked up, eyes meeting your own and startling you with how _pale_ they were. Ice white, with the barest hint of brown muddying the crisp edge of his iris. “ _Roman_ , how long has it been since you ate?”

 

“When did you leave for vacation?” He muttered, but it didn’t seem like he was trying to make you feel guilty. It appeared that he genuinely didn’t know. “Month?”

 

“You haven't fed for the whole _month?!_ ”

 

“I didn’t want to ruin your vacation. You needed it.” Roman said stubbornly. “Didn’t need to be hanging around, taking up your time and energy when you’re supposed to be relaxing.”

 

“There was no one else you could find on the app?” You asked, confused when he shook his head curtly.

 

“Not that. No one…no one else I _wanted_ to go to.” Roman sounded embarrassed. “Blood preferences are an issue in older families. We get into a rut, find someone we enjoy the taste of. Everything else is like grit in your mouth.”

 

“So it’s not only blood types, but blood…like, the actual _taste?_ ” You sputtered, feeling your face heat.

 

Roman groaned instead of answering right away, digging his nose into the curve of your neck and inhaling deeply. “ _Hah_ , please don’t get wound up. I can feel every beat, the _rush_ of you and…and…” His eyes were unfocused when he pulled back. In one rapid motion he tugged your wounded hand to his mouth so his tongue could delicately trace the battered skin, lapping up every drop he could reach on your fingers before he turned it over and pressed a kiss to where your pulse beat unevenly in your wrist. “And he was so wasteful and I’m so damn _hungry_.” He growled, making your breath catch in your throat.

 

Roman groped in his back pocket and for one terrifying moment you weren’t sure what he was doing. He pulled out his wallet and fumbled through a few dollar bills, obviously looking for something. Your heart raced in panic because _I know what guys keep in their wallets_ -

 

But then Roman clumsily tugged a Band-Aid out from between the dollar bills and almost dropped his wallet, grunting before trapping the leather in his teeth so he could have both hands free to open the bandage wrapper. You watched as his fangs slowly began to sink into the material, and without really thinking about it you moved to take it out of his mouth so he didn’t punch a hole in anything important.

 

He nearly bit you, flinching back a second before his teeth closed down. The wallet fell to the ground with a soft _thud_. You stood there, frozen, your hand still hovering in midair. Roman looked horrified, his eyes gone wide. “Jesus.” He said, sounding shaken. “ _Don’t_ do that.”

 

“I-I’m--” You began to apologize but he was already shaking his head to stop you.

 

“No, sorry. It’s my own fault. If I wanted to prevent striking at you I should have fed regularly. I was selfish. I’m so sorry.” His laugh was almost hysterical. “I just...I didn't expect you to try to touch me after what I did to Orton. I shouldn't have you this close to me. Asking for trouble.”

 

“I know you won't hurt me.”

 

“You can't rely on that. That's how good, kind people like you end up as fodder.” Trembling fingers pressed the Band-Aid to the wound on the back of your hand and he crouched down carefully to pick up his wallet. “Believing you're safe when really, every interaction you've had with me is the furthest thing from safety.”

 

“Are you trying to frighten me off? Because coming to my rescue is a pretty garbage way of doing it.”

 

“I'm trying to make you understand that I'm just as dangerous as everyone else. Don't let your guard down because you think I'm a friend.”

 

“I _don't_.”

 

“Doubtful.” Those ice-white eyes bored into your own. “The right touch, the right look, and I have total control of you. Never trust me.”

 

“You _are_ trying to scare me!” You accused.

 

“I don't want this to ever happen again.” Roman said, sounding defeated. “I don't want you getting hurt.”

 

“Well _I_ don’t want you going hungry because you think you’re bothering me.” You shot back. “I signed up for this, didn’t I? If I’d known you were planning on _hibernating_ , I would have penciled an extra appointment in.”

 

“That’s just it though, you shouldn’t have to.” Roman snapped. “I can get blood anywhere, from anyone, no questions asked. Wave my hand and they won’t even remember that I was there. But…I can’t do that with you.” His shoulders slumped in sudden weariness. “I can’t. Even now, with my throat on fire and my body screaming for it, I _can’t_. I can hear your blood racing, shunting through your veins, and it doesn’t matter because it isn't mine to take.”

 

“Orton-”

 

“You’re not _his_ , you’re not _mine_. You’re your own person. Not even filthy leeches like us will change that.”

 

“Don't call yourself that! It was because of you that his trance didn’t take full hold. I thought of you, did what you said.” You blurted out. “You kept me safe even when you weren’t here.”

 

“You _can't_ trust me. I won't let you make that mistake. Remember my nature, my tendencies. Remember my life span. No matter what terrible things I do to you, it'll be over in a few decades and I'll continue on the way I always have. _Without_ regard for the damage I've caused.” Roman said bitterly. “Remember the contessa. _She_ trusted me.”

 

“Oh _I_ remember all right. Do you?” You knew it was a low blow and you watched as his eyes narrowed.

 

“Why the _hell_ would you say something like that?” He roared. You were facing down the business end of over six feet of starving, irritated bloodsucker, but all you could think about was the fact that he had confided in you and you had that information for a reason. “You think I like not being able to remember her face, her name? _Do you?_ ”

 

You refused to back down, instead making _him_ retreat when you got in his face. “I think you're scared to admit that you loved her! You're scared to admit that you were young and in love, you basked in whatever affection she gave you and her death _hurt!_ ”  


“That was ages ago, hundreds and _hundreds_ \--”

 

“Which changes _nothing_. You loved her enough to hunt down her killer. You weren't upset about the guy stealing from you, you were _grieving_ , dummy! You lost her, killed him, it still hurt so you just tried to forget her, hiding behind some unaffected attitude like it didn't matter because it was _easier_ for you that way or because that's how your family always dealt with it!”

 

“ _Stop!_ ” Roman shouted, his teeth snapping together loudly. He huffed in a breath and then carried on dully as if unmoved by your tirade, “She would have died either way. I can't change that. Whether through interacting with me or some other outside force, she would have died.”

 

“We all do, Roman.”

 

“ _Don't remind me_.” He gritted out. “You make it so damn difficult for me. I'm _starving_. I've got this terrible thirst in my body, I can barely see straight. Could kill you right now.” As if to punctuate his statement, his legs buckled again. “ _Fuck_.” Roman clawed at the wall, struggling to stay upright. The coarse expletive sounded so wrong coming from him, but then again this whole night had been a perfect storm of wrong. Why stop here?

 

“I'm bringing you back to my place so you can feed.” You announced firmly.

 

“At least buy me dinner first.” Roman shot back, his grin pained.

 

“I _am_ dinner. Don't joke, asshole, you're the one who's apparently starving. Awful mouthy for a starving dude.”

 

“I'm actually _delusional_ with hunger right now. I...I don't even know how I got here. I asked you for an address and I think that was it.” His laughter was fully hysterical now, a gasping noise. “So stupid of me. Should have grabbed something out of the fridge before I left.” You looped his arm over your shoulder and moved out of the alley to the front of the bar and Roman raised his hand seemingly on instinct, hailing a cab.

 

“Your family needs to keep a cooler full of those little kid juice pouches for you by the door.”

 

Roman groaned at your joke, seeming more exasperated than pained.

 

…

 

Roman reluctantly sat still on the couch while you fussed over him, dabbing at his lip with a damp washcloth. “You _really_ shouldn't be so close to my teeth.” He flicked his tongue over the sharp point of one of his incisors as if to draw attention to said teeth.

 

“I know.” You answered simply, oblivious to the way his eyes half-lidded. “Just hang on. I'm almost done.” Roman's soft moan in reply sent a wave of heat down your spine. “Are you _whining_ right now?”

 

“No, I'm _starving_ and _weak_ and you're playing an increasingly dangerous game.” He growled. “Do what you need to do.” His teeth gritted every time you brushed his lip with the cloth. “ _Seriously_ , please, alright, _enough_.” He caught your hand and pressed a kiss to his usual spot, his breath tickling the sensitive skin of your wrist. “I don't want to hurt you.” He pleaded, his voice cracking. “Just...just let me feed.”

 

“Alright.” You murmured, letting him tug you down onto the couch beside him. “Be careful.”

 

Roman actually pulled you into his lap and held you tight to his chest, resting your cheek on his shoulder. “I could have lost you.”

 

“You didn't.” You stroked your fingers through the tangled mess of his hair. “It wouldn't have mattered, anyway. There’s always someone else that you can go to.”

 

A drop of something landed on your collarbone. Whether blood from his mouth or a tear, you couldn't say. “I don't know. I don't know anymore.” He muttered. “Jesus _Christ_.”

 

“Don't think about it right now, okay? Just take what you need first.”

 

“It's going to be a longer session. I'm...I'll do my best to make sure I don't leave any marks.” Roman's fingers hesitantly traced the bruises on your arm from Orton's grip. “There may be some light...uh...some light...bruising...” He clearly lost track of what he was saying, his attention elsewhere. His hand was shaking when he raised it to touch your cheek. “I thought...”

 

“Hey, shh. Drink.” You whispered. “Drink first. I know you're hungry.”

 

Roman passed his hand over your eyes and you felt the relaxation take hold. You barely remembered him saying, “ _You...you're safe with me, I promise_ ,” his voice choked with emotion.

 

…

 

“' _Light_ ', my ass!”

 

“I warned you-”

 

“ _Bullshit!_ I look like a teenager with an excessively horny boyfriend!”

 

“It's not _that_ bad--”

 

“I look like a fucking _cheetah_ , Roman!” You threw your half-empty bottle of concealer at him, outraged and embarrassed. “I had to wear a scarf to go to the store. It's _July_ , Reigns!”

 

Roman, still flushed from last night's _gorging_ and sporting an appropriately repentant look, rubbed the back of his neck after he caught the bottle easily. “I'm incredibly sorry. It wasn't my intention to mark you up. I thought that if I varied entry points, it would lessen the load on your body.”

 

“Oh you're just _full_ of logical reasoning, aren't you?” You retorted sarcastically. “' _Varied entry points_ ', unbelievable. Call it what it is buddy, you _mouth-fucked_ my neck.”

 

“ _Jesus_.” Roman sputtered.

 

“Hey, you dropped a good ol' fashioned twenty-first century f-bomb last night, don't clutch your pearls at me today!” You snapped. “I have to go to work tomorrow looking like this, Roman!” You hung your head, gripping the edges of your bathroom sink. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. “Everyone's going to talk, they'll think I'm some kind of--"

 

“There's no shame in a few marks on your neck.” Roman cut you off sharply.

 

“When those marks usually come from getting _railed_ into oblivion and I'm the office frigid bitch, there absolutely is.” You lost the fight with your tears, sniffling loudly.

 

“Can I touch you?”

 

“Sure, w-why the hell n-not?” You hiccupped, throwing your hands in the air.

 

Roman wrapped his arms around you, rotating your body and pulling you against his chest. “I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry.” He whispered, tucking your head beneath his chin and rocking you back and forth slowly. “I need to remember that it's harder for you.”

 

You had woken up lightheaded and suspiciously sore in the neck region to a note on your bedside table that promised another evening visit. Your disbelief had quickly sharpened to a molten-hot rage once your head stopped pounding and you were able to stumble to the bathroom. The bites were livid red and purple, your whole neck _ached_.

 

You were alone and in pain and you weren't sure what part was worse. Remembering Orton sent your stomach into twists of nausea, his compliments and the way he had savaged your hand mixing together in a nightmarish combination. You should have known from the start that he didn't have any interest in you as a human being. _Virgin blood_.

 

“Stupid, dumb, virgin blood.” Back in the present, you smacked your forehead with your fists a few times in frustration, startled when Roman caught your hands and held them against his chest.

 

“Please don't do that.” His voice was strained. “Hit me if you're going to hit someone. None of this is your fault.”

 

“I ought to _strangle_ you, _you_ \--you big...asshole.” You finished lamely, bumping his chest with your trapped hands. You grimaced when the motion pulled at your sore neck.

 

“Oh no...” Roman finally seemed to understand, one large hand covering a few of the marks on the side of your neck. “Christ, I hurt you. I actually _hurt_ you.”

 

“It's mostly just sore.” You could feel your hard-won anger cooling a little at the blatant horror on his face. “Achy.”

 

“No, no, you're _hurt_. I'm so stupid, I've never fed on anyone that hard and left them...alive.” Roman mumbled. “I thought I was being smart with my multiple punctures. Instead I just made everything worse. I hurt you.” He tapped one of his incisors. “Our saliva functions as an anti-coagulant. I kept moving around, trying to wipe my spit off so that you wouldn't...” His voice caught in his throat and he swallowed hard. “So that _I_ wouldn't bleed you out. You gave me permission to take what I needed, but I doubt that you expected the price would be this damn high. _Don't_ say that it's alright.” He said quickly, no doubt seeing you open your mouth to protest. “It isn't. I need to make this right.”

 

“Roman, you _killed_ someone for me.” You pointed out, the insanity of the situation hitting you anew.

 

“I did, yes. And I would again.” A muscle in his jaw ticked. “I won't stand by when you're in a scenario where you can't defend yourself.”

 

“Was it actually for me? Or for her?”

 

“Who?”

 

“You know _damn_ well who, Reigns.” Roman ground his teeth together, refusing to meet your eyes as you continued, “When you came to my rescue last night, all strung out and barely able to stand, were you actually there for me? Or is it just you trying to set things right with someone who’s already long dead?”

 

“Of _course_ I was there for you!” Reigns burst out incredulously. “I can't even believe you would think that I wouldn't come running if you said you were in trouble!”

 

“I didn't expect such a _rapid_ reaction, that's all. I was only going to make sure that somebody knew where I was, you know, in case I ended up missing.”

 

“The fact that you say that so casually-” Roman stopped short, shaking his head.

 

“It's the way things are.” You said with a helpless shrug. “I don't have to like it, but I do have to work around it.”

 

“I won't let something like that happen again.”

 

“If Orton was after me just because I’m a virgin, I doubt he's the only one. And _he_ was willing to pretend that he liked me, biding his time until after I got back from vacation. Heck, is that why _you're_ still here? Laying claim to little ol' me?” You snorted.

 

“ _Damn it_ , I'm still here because I _care_ about--!” Roman began passionately, his hands gripping your shoulders. You stared up at him, bewildered. He stammered an apology and released you. “I-I meant...I said that wrong.” He muttered, his voice low.

 

“Oh? What did you mean to say?”

 

“It doesn't matter. Listen, I brought dinner because I figured you would be fatigued and if you don't eat it soon, it'll be cold. It's no good when it's microwaved.” The sudden change in conversation had you reeling with confusion and Roman seized the opportunity to steer you into your kitchen. “I had a feeling that you might have some residual tenderness, so I took the liberty of bringing ice packs. My mother also suggested a heating pad. She hopes you're doing well, by the way.” He rambled, sitting you down at your table and rummaging around in the insulated bag he had brought.

 

“Your mom...hopes I’m doing well?” The words caught in your throat, barely a whisper.

 

Roman continued on over you, “She knows so much more about these issues than I do, but she also has the benefit of being able to rip the hearts out of men who irritate or threaten her. And if she doesn't feel like doing it herself, she'll just send my father after them.”

 

A large shallow bowl piled high with delicate strands of angel hair pasta was placed in front of you. It was quickly topped by a heaping cup of pasta sauce so rich and red it made your mouth start to water. “Oh, wow.” You said weakly. “That is...wow.”

 

“It's important that you keep your strength up.” A plate with several meatballs on it was scooted across the scarred tabletop, followed by a slice of bread that was _inches_ thick. “Mama told me to make more than I expected to need, so you could have leftovers.” Roman stood by your side, his hands clasped behind his back. “I know this is kind of a stereotypical meal to make, but I wasn’t sure what you would be up for. I um, I hope you enjoy.”

 

“Wait, you _made_ all of this?!”

 

“Yes. I have had a very long time to get good at certain things.” Roman rubbed the back of his neck. “I am...not skilled when it comes to baking, so I asked Papa for help with the dessert. It's a shortbread-”

 

“Dessert?” You squeaked in disbelief. “I think you overestimate my stomach.”

 

“And you underestimate the strain I put on your body.” Roman replied quietly. “I appreciate constructive criticism. If something doesn't taste--”

 

“This is literally a taste orgasm.” You announced through your first bite. Roman stopped dead. “I want to rub this all over my body.” He appeared to be at a loss for words, twitching when you whimpered in delight, “It's like my mouth just came.”

 

“I-I'm glad you enjoy it?” He finally choked out.

 

“You may need to give me a few minutes alone.” You joked, cramming another forkful into your mouth.

 

“You haven't even tried the bread yet!” Roman said, flustered.

 

“Oh don't worry, I am _gonna'_.”

 

…

 

“I really am sorry about your neck.” He mumbled.

 

You waved a hand dismissively from your facedown spot on the couch. A heating pad was draped across the back of your neck, working hard at relaxing out the tension in your shoulders. “I’ll get through it. I always do.”

 

“May I?” Roman asked.

 

You weren’t really sure what he was asking permission for, but you felt that it didn’t exactly matter at this stage. “Sure, whatever you want.” You had your arms folded, your forehead resting in the middle of them. You heard motion behind you and then suddenly his left thigh was thrown over your body. His right knee rested precariously on the edge of the cushions on the couch, keeping his weight suspended over you.

 

You moved a little to give him more room and you heard him inhale. He rubbed his hands together. “I’m going to touch you.” He warned.

 

You shrugged as best as you could from your position. The meal had been delicious, lulling you into a stupor that rivaled the post-Thanksgiving coma. You were pliant, warm, and slowly forgetting the ache in your neck. Roman’s hands spread at the base of your neck, encircling the tender area after a moment and then stroking down to the shallow channel that your spine created in your back. His hands were normally cold to the touch, so you appreciated him warming them up before doing…whatever this was. A massage? A soft sigh escaped you as he worked a knot out of your shoulder blade.

 

“Is that better?” Roman asked quietly.

 

“Mm…” You gave him a thumbs up, making him chuckle. “Stellar work tonight, Reigns.”

 

“Well, you _did_ save my life last night. It’s only right that I try to repay you.”

 

You squinted, not entirely sure of what he was talking about. “Huh?”

 

“You couldn’t tell? I was starving. And I expended so much energy just getting there, and then fighting Orton…” Roman trailed off.

 

“How did you know Randy anyway?” You asked curiously.

 

“His family isn’t as well-connected or as ancient as mine, but still relatively old in the modern age. We’ve…run into each other on various occasions.” He said guardedly.

 

“Yeah? With what, pitchforks and torches?” You jibed. “You guys didn’t exactly seem like the type to hug and ask about the wife.”

 

“There are so many deep rifts between old families.” Roman sighed unhappily. “There’s killing _all_ the time, manipulation and games that always end the same way. I consider myself lucky to have escaped most of it in this new age.”

 

“ _Killing?_ ”

 

“It’s not a real family gathering until you’ve torn someone’s throat out or snapped their fangs off.” Roman’s palms pressed down on either side of your spine, carefully rolling out the stress that had gathered there. “I’m numb to it, which I find very unfortunate. When you are…like me, it gets easier and easier to justify monstrous behavior. A slope more slippery I have yet to find.”

 

“How long has it been since you killed someone?” You asked, a little distressed.

 

“Before last night? I haven’t killed anyone, human _or_ vampire, in decades. Years and years.”

 

That made you feel a tiny bit better. Only a tiny bit, though. “That’s scary.”

 

“I’ve learned that it rarely makes anything better. Trying to justify killing someone is not how I intended to spend my long years.” Roman stilled over you. “Randy has never been of a similar opinion. If you hadn’t been there…I don’t know what would have happened.” He murmured. “Even if I had survived the fight, I might have died afterwards from the strain on my body. So much movement after not feeding for over a month, I was asking for trouble.”

 

“I’m glad that everything turned out okay?”

 

“You don’t seem to understand. You _saved_ my life, even though it would have been miles safer for you to run. My family owes you a debt of gratitude that I don't know how to repay. If you hadn’t been there to pick me up, guide me back and let me feed, I…” Roman paused, kneading his fingers through the cluster of pain at the base of your neck until the muscles _finally_ stopped going into spasm. You couldn’t help the filthy noise of relief you made, going limp beneath him. “ _There_ it is. How do you feel?” Roman asked.

 

You stretched languidly, practically purring, “Thank you…”

 

Roman chuckled, teasingly running a finger down the back of your neck. “You are entirely too sweet. I wish I could do this for you forever.”

 

“I’m not stopping you.” You mumbled. “Forever sounds great.” You felt his thighs twitch on either side of you in preparation for movement and you knew he was going to shift away from you. Taking a chance, you scooped his hand off the cushions beside your head. A little unsure, you cupped his fingers in your own for a brief moment, then turned his hand palm-side up to press your mouth to his wrist.

 

Roman exhaled sharply, clearly startled. “That is…” He swallowed hard. “You are wildly bold.”

 

“You do it to me all the time.”

 

“It’s a gesture of _respect_.” Reigns stressed the word. “I’m not some old count, bleeding the masses dry in a glut. You are compensated, I wouldn't have it any other way. I…see, when _you_ return the gesture, it’s commonly viewed as an allowance of sorts.” Roman sounded uncomfortable. “I wouldn’t have to ask anymore. I don’t want that kind of hold on you.”

 

“Hey, _you_ made the terrible mistake of feeding me and giving me a back rub. I am nothing but your loyal thrall.” You grinned, peppering the inside of his wrist with kisses.

 

Roman snickered, tugging his hand free to rumple your hair. “I can see I’ve made a grievous misstep in my courtship.”

 

“ _Courtship?_ Gosh, you sure know how to turn a girl on.”

 

“Ah, the lady mocks my ability. You think I’m just a pretty face, don’t you?”

 

“Not at all! Your everything else is pretty too.”

 

Your nonchalant reply startled a real laugh out of the large man. “Well, prepare to be enthralled in more ways than one.” Roman got to his feet without stumbling once (very impressive considering his previous position), bowed at the waist and offered you his hand. “If I may?” He asked, smiling when you whined a complaint and grudgingly let him tug you upright. The heating pad slid off your shoulders and you bemoaned the loss.

 

Roman immediately pressed you to his body, his fingers entwined with your own. Your breath caught in your throat at the suddenly intense look in his eyes.

 

“The lady doubts my prowess?” He murmured, his face bare inches from yours. “The lady would make light of my hard-won skills? Perhaps you do not believe me because you have never been treated as such.” He bent down to whisper in your ear, “As a lady, of course.”

 

“Y-you…uh…”

 

“When was the last time someone won you with gentleness? When was the last time you were treated as something of value?” Roman asked softly. “Even now, you curl up into my chest with no resistance. You hesitate but are not allowed to show it. Every motion is calculated, weighed and judged. If you smile, he won’t berate you. If you laugh, maybe he’ll leave you alone. Your body is not your own, constantly pulled apart and scrutinized by your peers who play at being your betters.” Roman’s free hand cupped your cheek. “They would remark callously on your unsullied virtue while they themselves indulge in such pleasures as they see fit, granted their own release in a dance that you have never had the joy of experiencing.”

 

His eyes were dark, no trace of that teasing smile on his mouth now. You didn’t know if he was being serious or not. You giggled nervously after a moment. “Hey, okay, I get it. You’re good.”

 

“I am not finished.” Roman answered calmly, making you gulp. “I mean to leave you with no shadow of a doubt.”

 

“Yeah, b-but…I mean, you can talk to me normal.”

 

“Where’s the fun in that?” Roman brushed his mouth over your knuckles. “The archaic terminology and cadence lends a certain dark flair. Your elevated pulse rate seems to speak for itself.” Roman’s voice had once again slowly adopted (or possibly reverted to having) that strange accent, trapping you between laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation and falling in love with it.

 

“I’m half-expecting you to point out the wainscoting or something.” You needled, coaxing another smile out of him.

 

“I was never good at distinguishing architectural trademarks. Forgive me, where was I?” He flared the fingers of his hands on either side of your face grandly, as if framing your countenance. “Ah, of course! Worldly pleasures and your lack of personal experience.”

 

“Sheesh, cut me some slack man. Guys are _scary_. I’ve never had a reason to trust any of them with that kind of responsibility.” You mumbled. “I mean yeah, Randy was a bit of an _extreme_ instance, but there’s never been anyone I’ve felt comfortable with.”

 

“Until myself, of course. The illustrious, mysterious _Cavalier_ _di Reigns_. I could easily steal your heart, but what’s the point without the body and mind attached to it? You are so incredibly lovely.” Roman’s tone deepened. “Your wit drives me to madness, your care leaves me breathless. I shall certainly perish if you will not allow me to tarry a while longer in the sweetness of your company.”

 

“ _Tarry?_ ” You sputtered.

 

“Tarry: to linger or meander in-”

 

“Yes _thank you_ , Webster.”

 

“I fear I have offended you. _Scuse_ , not my intention.”

 

Despite his apology, his eyes fairly twinkled with delight. He was clearly enjoying the opportunity to break out some of his self-proclaimed archaic wooing. You couldn’t deny it was kind of fun to have the attention focused on you, even if you had to untangle most of the words involved.

 

“Last night, when you tended to my mouth and showed no signs of fear, I’m afraid I fell even more _hopelessly_ in love with you. Forgive my boldness, I have long kept silent, worried that I would do little but frighten you. It would be a poor way of repaying you for all your hours of listening and tending to the needs of my soul that have long been neglected. However, I…can no longer keep quiet.” That strange, _intense_ look back on his face, Roman clasped your hands in his own. “Would you know me in pleasure as well as pain? Would you allow me to show you the ecstasies of the flesh? Welcome me into your bed, even if only for a night?” He implored.

 

“You…look, if this is a joke, it’s not funny anymore.” You said weakly, your mind reeling. “You win, okay? Sorry I doubted you. You win.”

 

“I would not joke so cruelly with you.” He _sounded_ serious, that might be the worst part about all of this. He sounded completely, _deadly_ serious. Even with all these goofy, flowery terms coming out of his mouth he didn’t appear to be making fun of you. “I can see that this has happened before. Someone has made light of your affections, your generous nature, and it causes you grief even now.”

 

“It’s not a big deal--”

 

Roman caught you beneath the chin with one finger, tilting your face up to his. You hadn’t realized there were tears gathering in your eyes until you had to blink them away. “I’m here. Not to judge or point fingers, but to offer you my company. No strings attached, no commitments unless _you_ wanted them. We would only do what you’re comfortable with. No more than that.” He breathed. “May I kiss you?”

 

Instead of answering, you threw your arms around his neck and dragged him into a fierce, grasping embrace. Your legs were shaking underneath you as you shyly nuzzled your face against his chest. Reigns stood firm, his arms locked around you tightly. “If…if you want to.” You stammered, feeling like your face was on fire.

 

“I want nothing more.” Roman assured you, his eyes lit up with something that you could have mistaken for adoration. “Have you ever kissed someone before?” At your head shake, he looked almost awestruck.

 

“You wanna’ fix that?” You challenged with a nervous grin.

 

He clicked his tongue. “Ah ah, none of that. Be genuine with me. It’s alright that you’re afraid. This is the unknown for you.” His accent had all but vanished, and strangely you found yourself missing it just a little.

 

“Is it weird that I’ve had somebody drink my blood for _months_ but I haven’t had my first kiss?”

 

“You’re asking the wrong person if you want to talk about _weird_.” Roman teased, his fingers sliding through your hair absently. “Just relax.” You gave it the old college try, closing your eyes and puckering your lips in what you hoped was an alluring manner. A finger met your lips and Roman snorted, “Christ, media has done you no favors.” He cupped your chin when you opened your eyes indignantly, fully prepared to ream him. “That’s not how you begin a first kiss.” He sounded like he was gently chiding you.

 

His nose brushed your own as he leaned in close, so close. Your indignation fled while he nibbled at your lower lip, teeth gently indenting the soft skin. His hands held your face steady (not that you would have moved) and you almost forgot to breathe, your mouth gone slack from the rigid shape it had held seconds before. Roman continued to carefully nip and tease at your lips, his fangs a steady pressure on your mouth. When you sucked in a breath after what felt like years, Roman kissed you in earnest. He slotted his mouth over yours and proceeded to ravage you entirely, his deadly incisors prodding at the sensitive area of your lips with wonderful intent. _No_ _ **wonder**_ _everyone talked up kissing_ , you thought in a daze as his tongue stroked your own tentatively.

 

“Forgive me.” He gasped, pulling back for a second and actually _licking_ his fangs as if to catch another taste of your mouth. “I didn’t mean to-”

 

“Please, more?” You interrupted, clutching at his shirt. Your whole body felt like it was on fire, your knees continuing to tremble beneath you.

 

Roman ran a hand through his hair and the neat bun collapsed down to wind around his shoulders and neck with nothing but a gentle tug. “This is on your terms. If you want me to go further, I will. If not, all you have to do is say so.” He seemed surprised at the way you carded your shaking fingers through the trailing ends of his thick mane. Last night marked the first time you had seen him with his hair down, and you had been too distraught to really _savor_ it. “If you want me to continue-”

 

“I do want more, I do, I just…I don’t know how to ask for it.” You interrupted him quickly, afraid you would lose your nerve. Your face heated with embarrassment.

 

“I have lived ages upon ages. Nothing that you say will surprise me.” Roman assured you gently. “Say what it is that you want.”

 

“More…more of the kisses. And some touching, please?” You requested, unable to keep from laughing when Roman pecked you on the cheek obligingly. “You’re such a _jerk_.”

 

“For more of your laughter, I’ll be the devil himself.”

 

“More of the _mouth_ kisses.” You clarified.

 

“And where do you want me to touch while I humor you with these _mouth kisses_ that you crave?” Roman asked with a hint of laughter in his voice, his hands hovering at your sides as he patiently awaited your instruction.

 

“I’d…um, I’d really…” You trailed off, hiding your face in your hands.

 

“A suggestion, if I may?” Roman offered gently. You looked up and nodded determinedly, wishing that your face would stop burning. “Now, everyone is different, of course. But I get few complaints. Your body is already responding to me--no no, that’s a good thing! Christ, whoever made you feel ashamed of being _aroused_ needs to have their brain examined.” Roman huffed in annoyance when you returned to hiding your face. “Your body _will_ respond, you are curious. Sensation heightens in certain areas. Such as here.” He extended two fingers to brush the nape of your neck.

 

You bit back a whimper, the chill of his fingers sending lightning shocks through you.

 

“Here.” His fingers slid up your neck to tease the shell of your ear, then down your shoulder to gently graze the curve of your right breast. He continued to your arm, lacing his fingers through your own and stroking the back of your hand lightly with his thumb. “And…well, if it’s not too intimate, your stomach…your thighs…”

 

His other hand came up to stroke at your stomach, the soft pressure he applied not _nearly_ enough and muffled by your shirt. You were panting at this point, your eyes shut tight and your fingers twisted around his own in a death grip.

 

“Open your eyes, love.” Roman whispered. “Open your eyes and guide me as far as you dare to go.” When you _did_ manage to open your eyes, Roman’s deep groan was music to your ears. “ _Christ_ , look at you. The wonder on your face…let me make you feel good, angel.”

 

“More?” You asked tentatively, and he licked his teeth.

 

“I can do that. Should we move to your bed? Would you be more comfortable there?”

 

“If it's okay, I...yes, please.”

 

Roman groaned again, nuzzling your neck and walking you backwards into your sterile bedroom. His hand came up to cradle the back of your neck and he feathered light, tender kisses over the skin of your shoulder after he tugged your baggy shirt to the side. “I love the way you dress, you know.” He commented. “Whether you're in the crisp, business-style attire or your relaxation clothes, the distinction of cuts between the two of them is phenomenal and I sincerely... _appreciate_ it.”

 

His playful pause told you all you needed to know and you found yourself laughing. Roman smiled when you kissed him, still giggling. “Is that how you said, ' _your ass looks nice in those pants_ ' back in the day without getting clobbered by six other suitors?” You teased.

 

Roman shrugged. “Any man who wanted to try me was certainly welcome to. I didn't shy away from complimenting _or_ fighting. Now I am a bit more cautious. I'm a predator by unfortunate circumstance, not by nature.” He said wryly.

 

“Good to know.” You let him back you up until your knees hit the edge of the bed, his hands resting on your hips as you indulged yourself with another kiss. The fact that Roman was even _able_ to kiss you without seriously injuring you spoke volumes on his past experiences. “H-Have you ever accidentally bitten anyone?” You asked, trying to distract yourself from the way you wanted to squeeze your thighs together.

 

“Many times.” Roman lashed his tongue over one deadly fang. “I was young once, you know.” He clearly noticed your raised eyebrow, because he quickly clarified, “Young in mind as well as body, that is.”

 

“Ah, so you were a little shit just like everyone else.”

 

“Haven't you ever seen _Blade_? All we do is have massive parties, bite people and _very_ occasionally try to raise an evil force from a time before time. I've had _hundreds_ of years to make trouble. Even cut my teeth on a revolution or two.” Roman gestured up and down his body. “Of course, I was never really that _little_ , but you get the picture.”

 

You squeaked in surprise when he gave you a gentle nudge and toppled you onto your mattress. That body was over you in a flash, his mouth back on yours. Your fingers grabbed at the fabric of his shirt and held tight, gripping even harder when he peeled your shorts off. He inhaled sharply, obviously noticing your lack of panties. You had meant to change before he arrived, but the time had gotten away from you. “Roman...”

 

“I'd just like to see, maybe touch.” Roman answered your unspoken fears easily, “Do you touch yourself, at least?”

 

“Well, I mean...um.” Your embarrassment was all-consuming. “Y-Yes, I have.” You sighed in defeat, feeling a little ashamed.

 

“So you can direct me, if you want me to touch you?” Roman was taking an entirely different approach from the reprimand you expected. If anything, he seemed _happy_ about it.

 

“Of course I _want_ you to touch me, I'm just all--” You shrugged as best as you could while lying on your back, pressing your thighs together as tight as you could and rubbing them back and forth in a gesture that probably put your nerves on full display.

 

“My clothes stay on. My hands don't go anywhere you don't want. If you say no, I stop. If I _think_ you're going to say no, I stop. If you're scared by anything I do, I stop.” Roman's voice caught strangely. “I have forever.”

 

“Okay. Okay. Please just go slow, and I promise I'll let you know if anything freaks me out.” You buried your face in his shoulder for a bracing moment, inhaling his scent to ground you.

 

All too soon Roman pulled away and you whined at the loss of him before you could help it. Slowly, _slowly_ , he eased your legs apart, running his hands up and down the insides of your thighs almost absently. You squirmed at the sensation of his gaze on you, your skin flush with heat. Roman looked up at you, holding eye contact for a long minute. “I need you to tell me what you want.” He said softly. “What are you used to?” He placed his index finger in his mouth, pulling it back out shiny with saliva. “One?”

 

You hid your face at his frank speech, nodding frantically into your hands instead of looking at him.

 

“Inside?” Roman breathed, his finger tracing wet lines on your pubic mound. “Or…outside?”

 

“Uh, I-I usually start outside.” You squeaked. “But that’s just to get myself…get myself wet. S-So if you want…I mean, you can just-”

 

Roman’s cool fingers spread you open, leaving you exposed to him. You wriggled nervously and Roman smiled. “You can move as much as you want. Let me know if I touch you wrong or in a place that’s too sensitive.”

 

_How_ could you even begin to tell him that his fingers were making you hypersensitive, driving your body to snap tight with the effort of _not_ rocking up off the bed in search of a firmer touch? How could you tell him that you were deathly terrified but you wanted more, _more_ , your mind crooning a deafening plea of greed?

 

_How? How?_

 

“Talk to me, angel.” Roman requested gently, “If you’re scared, I don’t have to put my fingers inside you.”

 

“The whole point of this is that you’re taking my V card.” You gasped.

 

“I have forever.” Roman repeated simply, pressing a line of kisses down your thigh.

 

“ _God_ , I know, I know, but I just want to get it over with.” You mumbled, squeezing your eyes shut.

 

Roman’s hands stilled. “Get what over with?”

 

“You know, the part that hurts.” You kept your eyes closed. “The part where I bleed and...stop being a virgin and stuff.”

 

“Angel, can you open your eyes for a second? Just a second.” Roman was staring at you with an unreadable expression when you did finally peek. “If I do my job right, if it _does_ hurt, it should hurt minimally. I promise you that much. You may feel _full_ , which is normal, but if you bleed for any significant stretch of time that means that you weren’t warmed up properly. Heavy bleeding is _not_ supposed to be part of the process. This is an enjoyable experience, despite what you’ve been led to believe.”

 

You bit your lip. “Are…Are you sure?” You whispered. “You promise?”

 

“I swear to you.” Roman kissed your knuckles. “To be safe, if you’d like, you can wet my fingers for me instead of me using my saliva. That way there shouldn’t be any issues with you clotting normally if this goes further. If you decide to go further.” He tapped his fangs lightly on your thigh. “And I do mean, if _you_ decide.”

 

“I’m scared.” You admitted.

 

“I know you are. You don’t have to do more than this. I'm already asking for a lot.”

 

You knew it was stupid, but you felt tears welling up in your eyes. You couldn’t help a sniffle. “I p-promise it’s not because of you, okay? You’re s-s-super patient. I’m just a baby.” You tried to explain, pawing at your face. “I want to go all the way. Wanna’ be one of the cool kids, you know.” You joked through your snuffling.

 

Roman chuckled, reaching up and brushing your tears away. “I’ll see what I can do. Is there anything that would put your mind more at ease?”

 

“Light…I want the light off.” You requested almost immediately. “Please.”

 

“As you wish.”

 

The room was plunged into darkness and you heaved a sigh that you hadn’t realized you were holding. “Okay. Okay, I can do this.” You muttered. Roman crawled up over you, his motions fluid and graceful. You could barely see the shine of his eyes in the darkness, then he was kissing you and you forgot everything.

 

He pushed your shirt up and touched his lips carefully to your neck, like an apology. Your fingers dug into his shoulders after he deposited your shirt off to the side. Roman growled, “Front or back?” and it took you a hazy second to figure out that he was talking about your bra.

 

“Oh, it’s a back, sorry. Let me-” You half-sat up, fumbling with the catch behind your back for a second. “I’m gonna’ get it, one sec.”

 

Roman’s arms wrapped around your body and he easily unlatched the hooks. “You give me too little credit.” He grumbled, no doubt seeing your incredulous look even in the dark. “I don’t need to tear things off your body. Patience and anticipation are prime weapons in any arsenal.”

 

“Ah, thank God I’ve ended up with Sun Tzu in my bed.” You replied dryly.

 

“The Art of War, eh? ‘ _The greatest victory is that which requires no battle_.’” Roman quipped, his teeth flashing in a grin. “Well then you probably know this one, too: ‘ _Let your plans be dark and impenetrable as night, and when you move, fall like a thunderbolt_.’” His thumb came up to roll over the peak of your right breast, startling you into giving a whimper of delight at the tingling sensation. You felt your body spark and twitch and Roman crooned in his throat, seeming almost relieved at your response. “That’s it, angel.”

 

You clung to him, trying not to get overwhelmed by the way he kept teasing your nipple between his index and thumb, the way his mouth pressed to your ear and urged you on with the lightest touches of his fangs. At his request, you hesitantly rocked your hips up, pressing the apex of your thighs to his groin. A rumble like thunder came from deep in Roman’s chest, the sound totally foreign. “Did I hurt you?” You asked, suddenly worried even as you fought a shiver of heat at the wildness of the noise.

 

“ _No_ , God no. You feel incredible.” Roman murmured, kissing your collarbone and lacing his fingers with yours. “The pain is all mine tonight angel, let me take it from you.”

 

You nodded, cupping his face with your hands. Those faintly shining eyes jerked up to meet your own. “Thank you.”

 

Roman kissed your wrist and ran his tongue over the area, his eyes locked with yours. There was a pleading cadence in the back of your mind, black silk wrapping over and under and over. He continued down your body, his touches tender and cool on your heated skin. You arched up into him with less hesitation now; your thighs opened in a wordless admission of your need and he met you halfway by smearing his fingers with your abundant slick and carefully, _so_ carefully, stroking his index into you. You cried out, trembling at the intrusion but wanting more still. A strange hunger had taken over your body, normally so content and used to your own touch.

 

“Oh angel, angel.” Roman sounded distraught. “You’re so tight. Any pain?”

 

“No.” You managed to get out. “N-No, m’okay.” His finger curled slowly, hooking up towards the wall of your stomach. Your eyes flew open when he brushed… _something_ , oh God, what was he doing to you?

 

Your thighs fought to close but Roman’s shoulders kept them open, the large man kissing the soft skin that he could reach. “Easy, easy. I won’t hurt you.” He reassured you, and it wasn’t that he was. Your body had gone into a spasm without your involvement, your legs trembling on either side of his head.

 

You exhaled a harsh sob of breath, propping yourself up on your elbows. Roman placed a hand on top of your pubic mound, applying a gentle, steady pressure the next time he crooked his finger. Your vision frayed out at the edges and your lips popped apart; through the static of your mind you heard another low groan from Roman.

 

“Are you ready, angel?” His tongue made a slow appearance, painting him as every inch the ravenous bloodsucker. It should have been off-putting, but you knew it was _because_ of his terrible gift that you were even here tonight, able to endure the sweet torture he was putting you through.

 

You shook your head with a tremulous smile, reaching out to him and hoping against hope that you hadn’t upset or offended him. After all, he was the one doing all the work! You were just so nervous…

 

Roman obliged you, pressing a flurry of kisses to your hands before letting you cup his face and ease him back up your body. “Are you alright?” He asked once he had settled beside you, and your mouth boldly sought his skin in the dark. You kissed and mouthed at his neck and Roman panted out a gasp of, “ _Oh_ , angel…”

 

“I’m sorry I’m all worried about you…you know, um…” You trailed off, wringing your hands and then fiddling with the buttons on his shirt. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, _please_ don’t think it’s because I don’t trust you.”

 

“I didn’t mean whether you were ready for _me_.” He breathed in your ear, wracking your whole body with shivers. It was several minutes before he spoke again, his digit sheathed in you as deeply as he could reach. “I meant whether you were ready to come.”

 

Your breath caught in your throat and Roman stroked upwards firmly with his finger. At the same moment, he carefully took your earlobe between his teeth and gave you a gentle bite. The tension he had been masterfully building snapped like a tripwire and an orgasm rolled through your body, so strong it was almost painful. You gasped and writhed, seeking a steady point through the trembling bliss, and Roman soothed you back down onto the bed with the caress of his mouth on your own.

 

“It’s alright, it’s alright.” He murmured against your lips, his own breath coming a little harder than usual. “You’re alright. I’ve got you, angel.” Roman withdrew his hand and rumbled again in his chest when you wrapped your arms around his neck. You turned onto your side, crushing your body as tightly to his as you could manage. “Oh, God, you’re so _warm_.” Roman snarled, sliding his fingers into his mouth for a taste of you. “The feel of your body against mine, your _smell_ , the way you look at me.” He shook his head. “I wish I could have you like this forever.” A note of sadness had crept into his voice.

 

You reached up and brushed the bottom of his jaw, making him flinch. “You have me right now.” You offered, cringing as you thought of how stupid it must sound. But you pressed on. “I-I mean, I know I’m not exactly a great catch, but I could learn to be, right? And…and when I get older, you can find someone else! We could part on good terms-”

 

“Time and resentment eat away at relationships.” Roman said darkly. “I have never been the one to leave. I stay in my prime, you get older…” His voice choked momentarily with what you had to guess was grief. “And soon I’m alone again.”

 

“Oh.” The word was weak and you knew it. You drew tiny circles on his chest, trying to come up with something, _anything_ to say. Nothing would change his mind, you were sure. After all, he had the advantage (the delicious, _mind-blowing_ advantage) of immeasurable years of experience. He had said so himself, ‘ _nothing you say will surprise me_.’

 

Maybe you didn’t need to change his mind.

 

You rolled over on top of him, smiling at the way he blinked up at you. “What are you doing?” He asked, confused. You fought with the button on his pants, silently cheering at the amount of strain his cock was putting on his zipper. “Hey, wait-” Roman protested, trying to catch your hands in his own. You mouthed at his knuckles and he swallowed hard. “Angel?”

 

“Shh, I’ve never done this. I need total silence.” You replied solemnly.

 

“Oh?” Roman asked haughtily, propping himself up on his elbows. “ _What_ is it that you haven’t done, exactly? Because I’m going to tell you right now, if it’s got anything to do with the piece of my anatomy you’re fucking _fondling_ through my pants, I will not be silent in the least.” His grin was a wicked challenge, one that he obviously didn’t expect you to take him up on.

 

You tapped his nose. “If you’re going to persist with this attitude of yours, you’ll never find out.” You retorted, barely holding back your giggles at the murderous look he gave you.

 

“You little _vixen_.” Roman growled finally, his hands dropping to the sheets and curling up into fists. “Alright. Do your worst.”

 

You tugged down his boxers to free his cock and Roman’s tune immediately changed. You glanced up when you felt him tense and found him staring at you, his eyes half-lidded again. “Is this okay?” You asked.

 

“Is it okay for _you_ , more like. I know many men expect this. I don't expect this of you.” Roman informed you. “It’s…listen, I touched you and I gave to you because I wanted to. I don’t want you to feel obligated.”

 

“I want to try, at least. I…I don’t know if I’ll be any _good_ at it, but I’ll do my best.” A little of your bravado faded when you mustered up the courage to actually touch his dick, the skin smooth and unusually hot beneath your fingers. He seemed... _large_ , with a prominent vein running the length of his cock that made him hiss out a breath as you rubbed your thumb over it. You bit back a joke about how much blood he had taken from you, certain that he may not appreciate the humor now that his blood had shifted to 'greener pastures'.

 

Roman snapped his teeth, running his tongue restlessly along the sharp edge of his fangs. His hands raised and dragged through his hair, raking it so it wasn't hanging in his face. No, so he could _watch_. He wanted to _watch_ you! You preened under the knowledge of his attention, and you ducked your head to kiss the tip of his cock. “ _Hah_.” Roman's breath left him in a harsh rasp, his fingers digging into his hair. “Angel, please, _please_.” He begged, his hips rocking up once.

 

You caught one of his hands, carefully untangling it from his mane of curls to intertwine your fingers and kiss his knuckles. “I have some time. Show me what you like?” You requested, your voice soft but determined.

 

Roman groaned and pulled you back up to his mouth so he could do _just_ that.

 

…

 

You woke late the next afternoon, your whole body pleasantly achy and wrapped in the embrace of Roman's arms. You snuggled into his chest, sighing in contentment.

 

Wait.

 

Afternoon.

 

_Work!_

 

Your eyes flew open and you all but fell out of bed, dashing to grab your towel from the rack by the bed while you silently cursed your own carelessness for not setting your alarm. “Roman, Roman I'm _so_ sorry, I know it's super early for you.” You apologized when he sat up, rubbing his eyes and grimacing. “I have to...God, I have to call them, I'm _so_ late, oh _no_ \--”

 

“I called in for you, maybe six this morning? It was right before I pulled the curtains so I didn't get a sunburn.” Roman yawned. “Said you were sick.” He stretched, still squinting blearily in the half-light of the room. “What _time_ is it, Christ it's bright.” He mumbled like he was talking to himself, rolling his no doubt stiff shoulders. “Mm, what's this? Is this...” He trailed off, his fingers probing a dark, reddish purple mark on his shoulder. You flushed hotly when he shot you a quizzical look through his hair. That slow, teasing smile quirked his mouth. “You _bit_ me, I remember now. Little angel.” He chuckled, reaching out to pull you back into bed.

 

“You really called in for me?” You asked instead of taking his hand, twisting your towel nervously.

 

“Mmhm, promise.” He sketched an 'x' on his chest. “The lady I talked with, Grace, said she hopes you feel better. You can check your call log if you want, but I promise I did call in for you.”

 

“She's the best, I love Grace.” You said faintly. Now that the panic had abandoned you, exhaustion crept back in, as well as an unwelcome stab of self-consciousness. You had been _incredibly_ intimate with the man who was currently giving you half-strength bedroom eyes while still fighting sleep. You clung to the towel like it was a shield.

 

“You uh, coming back to bed?” Roman inquired after a moment of you standing stock-still. He patted the mattress beside his body. “Plenty of room.”

 

“Are you sure? You don't like...regret...me, at all?” You half-mumbled the words into your towel, hesitant to show how vulnerable you currently felt. You kept your eyes fixed on the bundle of terrycloth in your hands even when you heard movement. You knew that if you looked at him, you would probably do something embarrassing like _cry_.

 

Roman had pulled on his boxers and gotten to his feet, and he proceeded to gently tug you into his arms for a hug. “How could I ever regret you?” He whispered into your hair. You closed your eyes, a few tears falling even as your death grip on the towel eased. “Come back to bed, angel. Sleep a little longer with me.”

 

You nodded into his chest, wiping your tears away so you could give him a watery smile. “Okay. That sounds...that sounds really nice, actually.”

 

_Sleep a little longer with me._

 


End file.
